St. Petersburg Nights

By Natasha Shaitanova

Chapter 20: Deals, Reporters, and Lawyers

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Quick A/N: Okay, so I haven't updated for a bit again…But I can promise you guys absolutely no updates for the next two weeks, seeing as I'm going on vacation. :) Boohoo for you, woohoo for me.

"Cooperate with us, Mr. Malfoy, and everyone currently in this chopper comes out a winner."

Draco, bound by Gorozin's rope curse and lying uncomfortably on the metal floor of the helicopter, glared up at Rosalind before craning his head to observe the other occupants.

"Smug up there, aren't you, Potter? Still thinking of teaching me a lesson for the death of that old coot?"

Harry grit his teeth and stared out of the window, using up all his willpower to ignore Malfoy. If he interfered, Rosalind would probably fire him for mucking up the mission.

"That unpleasant event seven years ago seems to be the crux of the matter, Mr. Malfoy," Rosalind continued, her deep voice defying the thrum of the helicopter, "Leading the group of Death Eaters into Hogwarts is the only crime you are legally charged with by the Ministry of Magic in England."

"What's the exact charge?" Draco snorted, "Conspiracy? Attempted murder?"

"Accessory to murder," Rosalind stated, in the tone of a tea-time conversation, "Enough to earn anywhere from ten to twenty years in Azkaban."

"What does it matter? All Death Eaters earn a one-way ticket to a lifetime in that hell."

"You no longer bear the Dark Mark, Mr. Malfoy," Rosalind pointed at Draco's bare left forearm, "Am I correct in assuming you got rid of it in Russia? No, you don't have to answer that."

Gorozin suddenly intervened in the conversation, "Look, can you get to the part where you tell Malfoy what his benefit is, already? He's barely paying attention to this redundant shit."

Rosalind spared a scathing glance at the uncouth businessman before turning back to the prisoner, "Mr. Malfoy, listen carefully. Per each term, the Minister of Magic is granted one pardon and one pardon only. It so happens that Liam Montgomery has not as of yet used that pardon. As such, he is more than willing to exercise his right should you be fully cooperative in resolving the MagiComp scandal."

"So, what? I help put corporate England back on its feet and I walk free? Just like that?"

"Just like that," Rosalind nodded, "Although we may consider the provision of exile from England, for the general safety of both parties, you will no longer be considered a wanted man. Your accounts at Gringotts and other banks will be reactivated. By all accounts, you'll be a free man, Mr. Malfoy."

"I see…so where does the infamous catch come in?" Draco grinned sardonically and let his head flop down onto the cabin floor.

"No catch, merely your full cooperation."

"That could entail a great number of things, lady."

"Address me as Ms. Cox, Mr. Malfoy," Rosalind stated primly, "You will accompany me to England and upon arrival meet privately with Mr. Montgomery. You will sign consent forms not to sue him for partial embezzlement and to keep your nose out of the media on the matter. In return, you will receive monetary reparations as well as full pardon from the Minister."

Draco interrupted almost lazily, "And I expect those reparations will not be anywhere close to the actual amount Montgomery embezzled from my family's stocks?"

"The reparations will be a smaller amount, but fully compensated for by the value of the pardon," Rosalind frowned, "I realize this bypasses a good deal of constitutional regulations, but circumstances require it. You cannot deny, Mr. Malfoy, that this is the best possible offer anyone will make you at this point."

"Well, my hands are tied!" Draco chuckled ironically as he tried to tug at his bonds, "I suppose taking your deal is my only option."

As Rosalind nodded approvingly, Harry and Dean exchanged troubled looks.

Blaise slinked through the shadows of various vegetation, avoiding moonlit patches of grass, as he searched the Shaitanov grounds for any hint of human presence.

Having successfully navigated to the back of the mansion without being seen, he spotted a brightly lit area on the back porch. The accompanying shouts in loud Russian assured him that he was not facing hostiles…at least technically.

Moving closer, Blaise recognized the two figures arguing and issuing commands in the middle of the melee: Shaitanov and Arbatiev.

Carefully raising his hands in the air, Blaise proceeded forward at full height, shouting a greeting as he went,

"Don't shoot! Blaise Zabini, here! Don't shoot!"

And yet, no less than twenty guns immediately pointed in Blaise's direction. Flinching, he continued, "It's me, Blaise Zabini! Don't shoot!"

Finally, Shaitanov motioned for the guards to lower the automatics, "Approach!"

Blaise walked swiftly into the lamplight, still keeping his hands in the air. Only when Shaitanov and Arbatiev visibly relaxed and motioned him forward did he heave a sigh of relief.

Shaitanov spoke first, "Where is Draco Malfoy? He should have been with you, seeing the journalist?"

"Draco got napped," at the other man's blank face, Blaise elaborated, "We got back from the meet and were entering the house when Draco was knocked out and captured. I was a bit behind him and managed to get out of range."

"Who got him?"

"I have no idea, they were inside. All I saw was Draco getting punched and then yanked through the doorway.'

Blaise fidgeted under Shaitanov's glare, but soon found out that switching his gaze to Arbatiev was worse. The man looked absolutely murderous.

Finally, Shaitanov addressed Arbatiev in Russian, ignoring Blaise, "If Cox is out, with Potter and that other agent, and if they've got Malfoy, then they are not sticking around. They must have been in that helicopter."

"Sir" Arbatiev seemed to steel himself against Shaitanov's stare before breaking the news, "The elder Malfoy, Gorozin, and Elizabeth Montgomery are also missing."

Shaitanov pulled a face, "Gorozin is missing? Now there's a mystery…"

"Sir, with all due respect…" Arbatiev shrugged, "There's nothing to be done about any of them at this point. We can't catch up because we don't know where they are going…'

"Of course we know where they are going., you worthless fool. They are going to the place that started this whole mess. All of them want the money—as such, they are all going to England."

"Sir?"

"Reassemble the teams. Pick your best ten men and have them board the East end plane."

Arbatiev gave a pseudo-salute, before moving off to carry out his orders. Meanwhile, Shaitanov turned back to Blaise, switching to English.

"The complications are unexpected, but are being addressed thoroughly, Mr. Zabini. They should not keep you from carrying out your assignment."

Blaise frowned, "You want me to keep working with Granger?"

Shaitanov raised both eyebrows and pulled his mouth down in a rather mocking expression, as though saying "What do you think?"

"Right…" Blaise bit his lip, unable to hide his residual nervosa, "But if Potter has escaped, then that is going to be known pretty soon…she'll stop cooperating."

"No one will know for at least another 48 hours. Get back to her later today and tell her that she is free to print the contents of the other folder."

Blaise's eyes widened considerably.

Liam Montgomery was a mess, truly and fully. He sat behind his magnificent desk with his head in his hands, curtains drawn and door jammed to block out the over-eager reporters.

The impudent headlines from the Daily Prophet, the BBC MagDiv, and even the Quibbler mocked him as he chanced a glance at his tabletop.

"Liam Montgomery: Post-War Reconstructionist or Corporate Shark?; MagiComp scandalous corporate history dates back to pre-war year; Montgomery: the ruthless businessman revealed!"

Even as he sulked, there was a distinct knock on his door and a voice filtered through the receiver next to his phone, "Kreg Kavitz. Mind opening the door anytime during this term?"

Montgomery sighed in relief and flicked his wand at the door, deactivating the locks. His damage control director walked briskly inside, "I must say, that was fast. Almost as fast as they are gonna run you out of office."

Montgomery groaned and buried his head back in his hands, "Thanks for that one, Kreg. It's really a disaster, isn't it?"

Kavitz snorted as he flopped into a chair in front of the Minister's desk, "It's a war zone out there, I swear. The damn reporters are having such a field day, even the Aurors are afraid to approach them."

Kavitz vaguely examined his nails, "I think they might consider catapulting your office door next. Or maybe they'll just nuke your office…"

"Okay, I get it!" Montgomery slammed his hands down onto the tabletop, "How the hell do we get this under control?"

"Control?" Kavitz laughed, "Are you joking? I don't know what's got Granger so against you to dredge up those sketchy deals, but she screwed your ass over so bad…Look, those articles took the control out of 'Damage Control' like a—"

"Kreg. What the fuck do I do?"

Kavitz paused in his tirade and looked carefully at the Minister. Honestly, the man did not look anything like a CEO or a "Chief Executor" by a long shot—he had the distinct look of defeat and despair that only Fudge could have rivaled.

"The only thing that's gonna lessen this mess is a very, very huge check to a member of the Malfoy family. And seeing as one is dead and one is missing…I'd say you are going to be holed up in this office for a very long time. Maybe until reelections. Then they are going to drag you out and crucify you…"

Montgomery moaned and shook his head, "Look, can't I just whip out some public apology speech?"

"Not enough. They'll stone you on the stand…"

"How about a statement to the public, sent through one of my aids?"

"They'll AK you when you show your face in the window…"

"Can you come up with a death for me that is not cliché?" Montgomery growled, "Okay, let's be logical about this. How about I just hand over the reparations to the Ministry of Magic? The National Treasury can handle it, seeing as no Malfoys are available…"

"Don't even think about it,' Kavitz looked at his employer like he would at a particularly dim five-year-old, "If they are going to impeach you, then you are going to need that money for good lawyers and a healthy retirement, as well as eventually forced reparations to the government. No need to let them have any early free-bees."

"Is there a happy ending scenario somewhere around this mess?"

"Trust me, not even the Americans get their Hollywood ending when it comes to presidential scandals. Remember Nixon?"

"Don't remind me…"

"Bush?"

"Which one?"

"Good point," Kavitz scratched his chin, "Look, as a friend to a friend…I am not really here to tell you how to handle this situation, because no one really can. I am just here to tell you that you are already down 50 percent by staff."

"They've started resigning?"

"The moment the newspapers hit the shelves. I think you still have all those governmental secretary blokes, but the personal aids are long gone."

"And you?"

Kavitz threw a short stack of papers onto the desk, "I'm not suicidal. I just waited until you were coherent enough to sign these."

"Resignation papers?"

"No, you idiot," only Kavitz would have ever dared to so blatantly insult the Minister to his face, "These are preliminary statements that we can release to the public; I had Alice write them up. Just put your signature on the bottom of the forms."

"You're sticking it out?"

Kavitz's smile could not have been more derisive, "What choice do I have?"

On the third day of his incarceration, Ron woke before the other prisoners and walked, mumbling, to the cell door. He waited throughout the morning until a guard came around during the regular rounds.

"What are you staring at, retard? Get away from the bars and back to your corner!"

Ron ignored the guard's words and spoke clearly to him, even though his voice was scratchy and weak, "They told me at check-in that I was here for one night, for being held in contempt of government authority, or something…"

"Oh, the loony speaks, huh? Well I tell you what," the guard leered through the bars, "Get outta my face before you're held in contempt of me."

"But I was supposed to be let out," Ron frowned in confusion, "Why aren't you letting me out?"

The guard only sneered in response.

"You can't hold me without a charge!" Ron's voice began gaining strength and momentum, "I know my rights, I am entitled to a trial and a lawyer if there is a charge! If there is no charge, you have to let me go!"

"Hey, guess what, loony? Watching Law 'n' Order doesn't make you the expert around here…"

"I want a lawyer!" Ron screamed as he strained against the bars, "Get me a lawyer! You can't keep me in here!"

But the guard just laughed and continued his rounds down the hall.

A/N: Okay, the name Kavitz…well, for some reason "Kaulitz" sprang up when I was thinking up a German name and I figured I'd just change it a bit to avoid another disclaimer.

As for the legal bits…Do you guys see where they are coming together? I don't really expect you to. But honestly, I'll be as accurate as I can when it comes to the law and all that. I mean, I am not expert attorney, so give me some slack. I won't bury myself in faulty details…

Please review!!! More reviews equals more chapters, its that simple :)

-Shaity out.